


Battle Tactics

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years after graduating Beacon, Weiss, Pyrrha, and Jaune have all become close friends. So when Pyrrha invites her over to help Jaune train, Weiss takes it as an opportunity to flirt shamelessly with the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for @emeraldragon23

 

 

Jaune went down just a little too easy for Weiss’s liking. She would be lying if she said she didn’t get some sort of satisfaction from it, of course… but when the sword went flying from his grasp and a little sidestep and a kick to the back of his knees was all it took to bring him down, she wondered if she was getting tricked somehow.

For whatever reason, Jaune refused to hit her. He camped behind his shield with leaden feet. There were even a few times Weiss left herself wide open, just to test him, just to see what he would do.

"You're being such a good boy, Jaune," Weiss said, letting Myrtenaster's tip drag down the curve of his neck. "Is it because you know I like the sight of you on your knees?"

"Flirting counts as cheating," Pyrrha called out clear enough to be heard from the other side of the gym.

Averting her eyes, Weiss scoffed, a hard _tsk_ like a snare drum between her teeth. "Fine."

Flicking Myrtenaster away so he could breathe again, Weiss strutted over to her bench and pulled out a bottle of water from her gym bag. Getting to his feet, Jaune rubbed his throat and went to retrieve his sword. “Best two out of three?” he cracked, and Weiss gave him a quick smile. “Or er… four out of six…? How does it work when you already won two…”

“Well, we are training you to fight against a left-handed opponent.” Weiss took the short break to redo her ponytail, arranging piles of white hair into a careful bun. “There’s not much point in it if we don’t try again.”

“I’m ready.” He really was, too. He bounced on the balls of his feet, a stubborn set to his jaw as he gave a few practice swings to test his grip. “But um, could you um… Could you grab a shield?” He gestured to the far side of the gym. “From the rack?”

She paused, one hand still tucking back her bangs. “What?”

He rolled his head, trying to stretch out his neck. “It just, you know. You have a shield and I don’t.”

Crossing her arms, Weiss smiled thinly at him until he realized.

Jaune’s eyes went wide, his face blushing bright red. He waved his hands, trying to erase what he’d just said. “I mean I have a shield and you don’t! It’s throwing me off, okay?”

It might have been charming if it were coming from someone else. As things stood, Weiss had to count to ten before trusting herself to answer. “Jaune, quit wasting my time and _fight_ me. I’m not going to handicap myself to soothe your own unfathomably dense insecurities.”

Maybe she should have counted to a higher number.

He winced.

“She’s right, you know.”

Pyrrha brought up the screen of her scroll, entering the arena to show them the recording of the previous match. “Look here,” she said, tapping on the fight to pause it. “She’s wide open and you’re still cowering behind the shield.” Taking the scroll, she bopped it against his forehead. “I thought I beat that out of you in our first year?”

“But she’s small!” he whined.

“Really? After all this time?” Grinding the heel of her palm into her forehead, Weiss sighed. It was obvious Jaune was having trouble cutting loose, so to speak. And she’d jumped at the chance to see her friends when Pyrrha invited her down to their private gym to help Jaune train for his first solo tournament. But this was an inefficient waste of her time, and she couldn’t hold on to her patience for that long. “Look, Pyrrha, would you mind if you and I went for a turn?”

She blinked. “Of course. To show Jaune, er, how to exploit your weak points?”

“To show him I’m not a porcelain doll.” She carelessly knocked the back of her fist against his chestplate, making him flinch. “See?”

“If your intent is to demonstrate your ability to hold your own in a match,” Pyrrha said, tilting her head with a brilliant smile, “Fighting me might not... be the best idea.”

“I just need him to see I can take a hit,” Weiss said. “If you can do that while leaving my pride intact, I’d be grateful.”

Pyrrha studied her, a careful up and down glance. “Well.” She blinked a few more times. “Well, certainly. Let’s go.”

A few moments later, she crossed her sword against Pyrrha’s spear, knocking them together after a short bow. Jaune played referee, standing on the outside of the sparring area with a towel in his hand. He waved it from side to side, grinning. “All right! I want a clean fight! No semblances! Nothing below the belt!”

Weiss rolled her eyes.

“No cheating,” Jaune added sternly, pointing at her.

She actually felt offended for a moment. “Why are you singling me out?”

“Because you fight dirty,” Pyrrha said, and rushed at her without another word of warning. For the first time, Weiss’ heart rate spiked. She drew Myrtenaster up for a sloppy parry, carving Pyrrha’s sword aside only for the strike to be followed by Pyrrha’s shield bashing into her face.

She took the hit and rolled with it, mentally cursing herself in every language she knew. A few bouts with Jaune had left her off-guard. “I’m small,” Weiss reminded her. “Fighting dirty’s my best shot.”

Pyrrha’s eyes twinkled. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Schnee.”

Secretly, Weiss was relieved. If they were wasting breath on a round of back-and-forth banter, Weiss knew Pyrrha was keeping her word and going easy on her. There were a lot of things her pride could handle, but getting soundly trounced by the unbeatable one-hit Nikos was not one of them. There was a reason she’d never challenged the taller girl in a tournament.

That was all the room she had thought for before she was struck-- once, twice, three times-- with enough force to send her flying back, rolling right out of the padded area and onto the concrete floor the gym. In a flash, Jaune and Pyrrha were both right there, Jaune with an arm around her shoulders and Pyrrha’s hand on the small of her back.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” Pyrrha said, her eyes wide with worry. “I’m so sorry!”

Slowly, Weiss began to laugh.

 

* * *

 

Weiss took a break to stem the bleeding from her nose before they began again. This time, Jaune moved with more confidence. Watching his feet, Weiss noted the same footwork she’d memorized many years before, watching Pyrrha win tournament after tournament when they were all still in combat school. Pyrrha had obviously been teaching Jaune to do the same, and he’d picked it up with surprising adroitness.

“Aww,” Weiss teased, deflecting another hit and side stepping his attempt to rush at her with his shield. “You really _do_ still have a crush on me. That’s so cute.”

Flushing red from exertion and embarrassment, Jaune forgot everything and became a turtle again, hiding behind his shield. “Well, th-that’s why you’re here, right?” he said. “Pyrrha said…”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

Jaune won two rounds in the end, and another exchange of shameless flirting on Weiss’ behalf let him win once more, since Pyrrha disqualified her for cheating.

After that was a circuit of weightlifting, designed to help Jaune build endurance. Not content to sit around and wait, Weiss joined him for an hour before Pyrrha said the dreaded words.

“All right. Suicides, then we’re done for the day.”

Jaune fell to his knees, moaning in distress as he reached towards the heavens. “Nooo!”

“Quit it,” Weiss said, lifting her heel up to kick him in the rump. “I’ll set up.”

Once Weiss had finished setting up ten cones, Pyrrha blew her whistle and the pair of them began. Suicides, for Weiss, were always a way to train with glyphs. Accuracy, speed, efficiency, and concentration of area. She braced herself, making sure her stance was strong before summoning nine at once, each on their respective cone, and then one more right under her feet.

The glyph rocketed her forward to the second cone, then back to the beginning. Gritting her teeth, she summoned another one to zip her over the third mark and then back to the first, and again for the fourth, until the tenth cone was finished and she launched herself back to the first cone and forced herself to stand upright despite her knees threatening to give way.

“I win,” she said cheekily to Jaune as he came racing back on foot from his sixth cone.

“Oh, ha, ha, HAH!” he shouted with a grimace before running to the seventh.

Weiss cupped her hands over her mouth. “You’re the one training for a tournament, not me!”

Standing besides Weiss, Pyrrha crossed her arms and bumped her hip to hip, making Weiss take a few steps.

“You’re mean,” Pyrrha noted, but without any judgement.

Weiss shrugged shortly. “You knew that when you invited me.”

Standing back at the beginning of her line once Jaune had finished his first suicide, Weiss rolled out another row of glyphs. This time was significantly harder. It had been a while since she’d pushed herself to her limits. She did two more before arriving back to her starting point drenched in sweat, her whole body trembling now. Jaune was raggedly panting every time they passed each other, but he showed no signs of slowing down.

“You really whipped him into shape,” Weiss said with no small amount of awe.

Pyrrha ducked her head low, but she smiled. “It’s a work in progress. Now,” she added, snaking one arm around Weiss’ waist and dragging her back to the first cone. “One more, then you’re done, Ms. Schnee.”

“But--” Weiss sputtered.

“On your feet. No glyphs.” And then she cocked her foot to give Weiss a little bump on her rear end, just as she had done to Jaune.

Yelping, Weiss minced forward just as Jaune finished his fourth suicide. “You gotta do it!” he shouted as he passed them. “Or I win!”

A spark of rebellion lit up inside her. Taking off, Weiss tried to catch up with him as he ran on his latest suicide. They were neck and neck, but Weiss began to flag just as she reached her eighth cone. By the time she dragged her feet back to the starting point, Jaune was still going.

Pyrrha was waiting for her with a water bottle, and a hand towel, and a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

“You really like cutting me down to size, don't you?” Weiss gasped, flopping down on the bench.

“Why would I enjoy that? That would be cruel of me.” Standing next to Weiss, she patted on top of her head before tucking a stray lock of hair behind one ear. “You already have such little size to spare.”

Quitting his suicide halfway, Jaune came storming back to the bench, throwing both fists into the air. “Oooh, ice burrrrrrn!” he hissed. “Gimme one, coach!”

He leapt up and met Pyrrha on the downswing, giving her a high five. Laughing, Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand and shooed him away with the other until he returned to his drills. “This is nothing,” Pyrrha said. “When I was training for mine, I would wear weighted vests, as well.”

Weiss shook her head in disbelief, letting the water dribble onto her towel before wiping down her face. “Monster.”

And now she saw that there might be a reason Jaune was picking up on Pyrrha’s style so fast.

It was ridiculous, Weiss just couldn’t keep up with their stamina.

“If I pay you,” Weiss said, “Next time I have a tournament, will you run me as ragged as you’re running him?”

“Hmm?” Pyrrha turned to her. “Weiss, you don’t even have to pay me for that. I’d be compensated by entertainment value alone.”

Jaune came running back on his last lap. “I win!” he shouted, bouncing on his heels again. “What do I win for getting first place?”

“A kiss,” Pyrrha said, pulling him forward by the front of his shirt and planting one on his lips.

He pulled away with a goofy grin. “Nice.”

Resting her cheek on one hand, Weiss sighed. “What does second place win?”

“Another nice beatdown in the ring, if you’re up for it,” Pyrrha said. “Or… we could all have dinner together.”

Perking up at once, Weiss beamed. “Really?”

Pyrrha sat down next to her, swinging a knee over to bump against hers. “Really. I promised you a date, didn’t I?”

Jaune waved his arms. “She said earlier she’s still thinking about it, Pyrrha!” he said.

Making a face at Jaune, Weiss started freeing her hair from its bun, combing it out between her fingers. “Well, I thought about it,” she said, “And I agree. What’s the harm? If I don’t like it, I still had dinner with my friends.”

“But I-- but you--”

Mood snapping down in a sudden scowl, Weiss stood up and pressed a finger to his lips. “Enough. For once, Jaune, please listen to what I am actually saying.”

Hushed for now, Jaune stared at her with wide eyes before quickly nodding and motioning to zip his lips.

It lasted about two seconds.

“But I don’t want you to think this was my idea or that I pressured her and of course you know our history and I was a dumbass teenager and yeah I still like you but Pyrrha really _really_ likes you and I--” he gasped, clutching his head, and then zipped his lips again.

Weiss smirked. “Are you finished?”

He nodded, a little too fast. “I’m gonna go immediately right now bye.”

Stiffly walking away, Jaune took his gym bag with him and disappeared into the small wash room, with its single shower.

Watching after him, Weiss slowly shook her head. “Maybe we should do dinner at my place,” she suggested, “Instead of a restaurant. If he gets nervous and stabs himself on accident with a steak knife, I’d like to be close to a hospital.”

“What if I get nervous,” Pyrrha said, “And levitate all your expensive silverware out the window?”

Leaning down to where Pyrrha was sitting, Weiss pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sure I’ll think of some way for you to repay me.”

To her surprise and amusement, Pyrrha’s composure finally broke, a flush spreading across her cheeks. Covering her face, Pyrrha turned away.

“Wow,” Weiss said, “That wasn’t even all that suggestive, Pyrrha.”

“You really do fight dirty!” she accused.

“Mm, but you love it.” She kissed her other cheek, and then, cautiously, her lips.


End file.
